Through the Darkness
by Takada Saiko
Summary: Sands runs into El in a dark alley one evening. Both are being hunted, both are on the run and fighting, so just how much use might they be for eachother? As long as they don't kill eachother in the end, possibly very. RAting MIGHT change, I dunno....R
1. Default Chapter

Title: **Through the Darkness**  
  
Author: Saiko  
  
A/N: Okay, this is my warning to the readers out there: I know I've been told that I keep characters in character for the most part in my writings, and I'll certainly try in this as well as all others, but I've been running it through my mind for several days on HOW I might go about that. I've got a deal where I refuse to use f--- in any format in my stories. I just can't stand that word, and yet it seems to be Sands' favorite colourful metaphor. I'll try to find a way around that and still keep him in character. I REALLY need the readers to tell me what I can do to keep him in character (or any others if I don't) or if I'm doing okay. We'll see how it goes. Oh, and I don't own them. :)  
  
**Chapter One: Dark Alley Ways**  
  
They'd been following him for the last five minutes, he was certain, and possibly the last ten. He'd pretended not to notice while trying the best he could to weigh his options. Two men were walking behind him. There was very likely one on the other side of the street, but of course he couldn't be certain.  
  
Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.... He was getting closer. Now was that alley way sixty-seven or sixty-eight steps? Damn. Sixty. He'd figure it out when he got there. Ah, there it was. Sixty-six steps! He slipped inside and flattened himself against the building, inching his way down it. It was evening, and the sun was falling rapidly. The small area between buildings would be dark. He'd have the advantage. Former CIA agent Sheldon Sands took a gun from its holster and loaded a new clip into it, pressing his body against the building and waiting.  
  
"Where'd he go?" one man asked in rapid Spanish. "He can't just disappear!"  
  
"Idiot, he's back here somewhere."  
  
"I don't see him."  
  
"Just keep your eyes open. It's more than he can do, right?"  
  
Sands smiled to himself. Couple of mooks, these two. Complete idiots. He stepped out with two guns now in his hands, letting the bullets fly. He heard one man hit the ground with a sickening thud and the other stumble backward, but no contact with the hard ground was heard. He waited for the gunfire he was sure would follow. Nothing did.  
  
Sands strained his ears to hear anything to give him an idea of what might be happening. Footsteps, behind him. He whirled around and something caught his hand.  
  
"Who are you that the cartels are after?" a man with a very familiar voice asked.  
  
"El?"  
  
The man in question released Sands' hand and stepped back, looking at the gunman before him. A small smile crossed his face. "Agent Sheldon Sands, wasn't it?" he asked in English.  
  
"Well, Sheldon Sands still, at least," the former CIA agent responded with a wide grin. It was good to hear a familiar voice, even if it was of a man he trusted very little.  
  
"Ah, so you survived."  
  
Sands nodded. Survived... He supposed he could call it that. It been nearly a year, he wagered, since Barillo had ripped his eyes from him and thrown him out on the street to be knocked off by his good. It had been nearly a year since he'd been in the CIA and in total control of his surroundings, or at least felt like he was in total control. Since that horrible November day, everything had spun out of control. "I guess so. And you seem alive and well."  
  
"I am."  
  
"Still mourning your late wife and child?"  
  
El gave a snort that told Sands not to go there. The former agent paused a moment, listening for any approaching assailants. When he heard none, he allowed himself a small smile. It had been far too long since he'd been able to push someone's buttons freely. His creative genius needed some exercising.  
  
"Wha?" he asked with a grin. "I should take that as a yes? C'mon, El, it's been how long?"  
  
"You have no idea what you're talking about," the mariachi growled, his hand reaching out quicker than the gunman could follow and grabbing Sands by the shirt.  
  
The quick rush of adrenalin made Sands smile, but it quickly faded as he heard the sounds of quickly approaching footsteps. The man that had stumbled had gone back to get help. Damn the luck. He put a hand out to shove El away, muttering for him to shut his trap for a minute. They weren't coming down the alley, that was too easy. They were above. "Shut UP!" he growled to the man standing next to him.  
  
"Think about what you say before it leaves your mouth then," El growled.  
  
Sands managed to pull away from him, but that didn't shut him up. Note to self: no pushing buttons when people are trying to kill you and the idiot won't shut up. He turned to the mariachi, holding hand out. "I can't hear if you don't-"  
  
Gunshots sounded through the alleyway and El's eyes widened. He pulled a gun from the holster around his belt and fired upward, downing a man that was leaning over. "They're still here," he announced.  
  
"No shit," Sands yelled back as he fired upward as well.  
  
The gunfire rang off the walls around them several more times before the last man fell from the top. He hung himself in a clothesline on the way down and El frowned. He turned back to Sands who was staggering back against the wall, one gloved hand pressed against his ribcage. His face was screwed up in a pained filled look behind his dark sunglasses. El briefly wondered why he was still wearing them in the twilight. He shook his head. That really didn't matter, now did it? He knelt down to where Sands had slid down the wall, head against the bricks. "How bad?" he rasped.  
  
El was still half way annoyed from the man's attempts at button pushing earlier. "Look for yourself."  
  
"I _can't_," Sands answered at length. He looked down and his glasses slipped down his nose a ways, revealing the two empty eye sockets. "I'm blind, you idiot."  
  
El did his best not to gasp in horror. "When...?"  
  
"The Day of the Dead," the former CIA agent answered. "They've been after me since."  
  
"That's why you were listening..."  
  
A dark smiled crossed Sands' lips. "Yes, and the reason I wanted you to shut the hell up."  
  
"I.... Didn't know..." El knew it sounded foolish, but he could not bring his mind to think of anything more than that. So Sheldon Sands was the blind gunfighter he'd heard of over the last couple of years. He'd caused trouble for the cartels. Enough for people to make note of him. The mariachi had never expected it to be his former employer.  
  
El was brought out of his thoughts as he heard Sands shifting his weight and struggling to stand up. The mariachi followed him in the motion, catching him as he pitched forward. "No," he said quietly. "You shouldn't-"  
  
"They'll come with more men and do I look like I'd do much good tonight?" Sands growled, patience wearing thin.  
  
"I'm staying with a friend in town. You'll come with me."  
  
Every muscle in Sands' body tensed as the other man said this. He pulled himself away and found himself against the wall again. "I don't take orders."  
  
"Then how about I simply help you?"  
  
"I don't need your help!" Sands all but yelled. The last thing he wanted was pity from the great El Mariachi. "Run along, El, you're starting to piss me off."  
  
El watched the former agent stumble out of the alley. There had been few people out before, and fewer now. No one would pay him any heed as he slowly made his way down the street. No one but the mariachi saw him collapse to the ground. He sighed as he approached the agent and scooped him up. Assuming Sands was unconscious from the lack of response, he started for Lorenzo's place.  
  
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A/N: Okay, I need to know if it totally sucked or if I should continue. Let me know! :) 


	2. ch2

**Chapter Two: Lights Out**  
  
A/N: well, I've been told I should continue, so I'm continuing! Hehe... Oh, and I found a typo in my story that I should correct here. It's been a year since the Day of the Dead. I had said something about El hearing about Sands for the past couple of years, and I meant year, so just thought I'd clear that up. Sorry :)  
  
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"Lorenzo!" El hollered as he pushed open the door, stumbling in with his burden. "Some help?"  
  
Lorenzo muttered several colourful metaphors as he came into the room. His eyes widened when he saw El stretching Sands out on the couch. "Is that who I think it is?" he managed. "The gunfighter that's been rumored to be blind, right?"  
  
"That would be him," El answered.  
  
Lorenzo leaned over the couch, a grin spreading across his face. "You know the kind of reward money we'd get off him?" He laughed when El shot him a glare. "Of course if he's a friend of yours we wouldn't do that...."  
  
Sands groaned from his place on the couch. He seemed to come to all in one brief moment and he shot up, one hand connecting solidly with El's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. He reached for a gun and found none.  
  
"Sands."  
  
The former CIA agent stopped where he was, head turning toward El as if he were staring strait at him. "Where are we?"  
  
"My friend's house."  
  
Sands cursed as he started to stand, but the fiery pain in his side dropped him back to the couch. He bit back a cry. "I told you to leave me the hell alone," he growled at length. "I don't need your help."  
  
"But you do," El said simply as he pushed the American back against the pillows. "And a doctor, from the looks of it."  
  
"Screw you," Sands growled as he swatted the mariachi's hand away.  
  
Lorenzo moved around to the front of the couch, taking a closer look at their annoyed guest. "The cartel'll follow him here," he said.  
  
"Hopefully not."  
  
"This is my house, El. You know, I have no problem with you being here, but I'm not ready to put my neck on the line for someone I don't know, no matter how many interesting rumors are running about on him."  
  
"What kind of interesting rumors?" Sands asked.  
  
"Enough to know that the cartel will hunt you down here." Lorenzo made a face, even though he knew the former CIA agent couldn't see it. "I just started my payments on this place not long ago. I can't afford to get it shot up. And even if you **_weren't_ **the blind gunfighter, if you're a friend of El's then someone will be after you."  
  
"No shit?" Sands asked as he sat up straighter. "I thought the bullet hole in my side was a joke."  
  
Lorenzo lurched forward at him, but El held him back. "I'll take him elsewhere if you want me to, but-"  
  
"Why are you so intent on helping him?"  
  
Sands cocked his head. "My question exactly."  
  
El gave a long sigh. That was the question of the evening, wasn't it? Why **_was _**he helping Sheldon Sands? The man before him was manipulative to an extreme that the mariachi wasn't sure he wanted to venture into again. Sands wasn't to be trusted. But then again, he needed help, whether he'd admit it or not. And he might very well prove useful later on. That was a good answer. "I'd like to work with you against the cartel."  
  
This brought a chuckle from the injured man. "What? You think I'm in this to help Mexico?" He laughed again. "Listen, amigo, I'm in this for myself. My own revenge. I rather like the hell I'm reigning down on the cartel and the fear I smell off of 'em."  
  
"What if I am not finished with my own revenge?"  
  
"You killed who you needed to, and good for you. I'm sure you got paid handsomely with the money I was supposed to be getting, not that I'm bitter of course."  
  
"Of course," Lorenzo said mockingly. "Listen, Sands, wasn't it? I don't want my house shot up, got it? I want-"  
  
"Shut up," Sands hissed, obviously intent on something.  
  
"What the hell?" Lorenzo growled, but received a look from El. "What?"  
  
"What do you hear, Sands?"  
  
"Were you expecting anyone?"  
  
"Not even El this evening, so no."  
  
"We've got trouble."  
  
--------------------  
  
It was a good ten minutes before something actually happened. El had given Sands his guns back – though with strict instruction that Lorenzo and he were not to be on the receiving end... Why had Sands found that so funny? – and he and Lorenzo had gotten ready themselves.  
  
"Fideo's going to be pissed he's missing the party," Lorenzo said with a grin.  
  
"He can have my place and while he's at it they can stalk him instead, how's that sound?" Sands growled as he cocked his gun. This was it. They were in the house. He suppressed a groan as he realized he had no idea what the layout of Lorenzo's house was. He knew tables would be just waiting to trip him, along with other items in the house with such menacing natures as that.  
  
Sands' gun was the first to fire. A loud curse in Spanish was heard before an audible thump that signified the man had fallen into a heap on the new carpet. A bloody heap, but no need to remind Lorenzo of that. Best to wait until he'd put his gun down and then mention it.  
  
It was quiet. The quiet before the storm, in a way. Two seconds and a half later all hell broke loose. Gun fire rained down on the living room, sending the owner and his two guests scattering.  
  
"Any great ideas?" Lorenzo hollered.  
  
"Kill them."  
  
"Oh yeah, great plan. Next?"  
  
The gunfire stopped and there was an audible click. Sands tensed. "That wasn't a gun. What was it?"  
  
"That would be the electricity going out," Lorenzo mumbled.  
  
"Lights too, I suppose," Sands mused.  
  
"No kidding."  
  
A small smile graced the former CIA agent's lips. "That gives us that advantage."  
  
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A/N: Wow... This story is becoming increasingly harder to write. With my Pirates of the Caribbean and Secret Window stories, I tend to have most of the plot line stuck in my head at the very beginning, perhaps missing an ending or a major scene until I get around to it, but hey, nothing too big, right? ::grins:: But this one.... This one is interesting. The plot's very fragmented in my head (ah, like the rest of my thoughts....) so I hope I can keep up with my normal one chapter a day thing that I enjoy doing. ::sighs:: don't hate me if I don't, ne? I've given my excuse :(  
  
LaVieSansAmour: Yay! You found this one! I was so happy when I saw your name on a review! I do believe you are my most regular review b/c you follow ALL of my stories! ::gives you a big hug:: Thanks very much! And yes, your encouragement helps! But you'd tell me if it DID suck, right? Oh, I completely understand about the needing to know the years thing. (it's one year later, btw) It drives me up the wall not to know years, ages, ect... Could be why I write fanfiction, b/c in movies they don't always GIVE all that information... ::grumbles:: Ah, the horrible f word. It really doesn't bother me as much as it used to, but I think that's the part that bothers me. (does that make any since whatsoever?) We'll see how I handle Sands without using, and maybe I can come up with a creative way to avoid it! A new challenge! Yay! :)  
  
E.S.Young: Ah Sands... I'm surprised I liked him as much as I do. He's just so... self absorbed... He's a difficult character for me to write b/c of that oh so lovely quality of his. (let me know if I start venturing OUT of character on him, ne?) Well, I hope you liked this chapter as much as the last! Hope to see you back.  
  
A/N2: Grr... I've got an idea in my head for either later on in this fic or possibly making it a one shot, but the problem would be that if I made it a oneshot NOW, it'd still be set along this fic's timeline and therefore confusing.... Decisions decisions... Oh well, I'm headin' off towards bed b/c I've felt icky all day.... ::totters off in that general direction and promptly sleepwalks down the stairs:: 


	3. ch3

**Chapter Three: Turning Tables in the Dark**  
  
A/N: Just wanted to let you know that Vanillafluffy inspired the title for the chapter in her review! I liked the way that she worded something and I was like "hey! That'd make a good chapter name!" Thanks!  
  
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"Advantage?" Lorenzo hissed. "I'm calling Fideo first chance I get."  
  
"It is an advantage, you're just do stupid to realize it," Sands answered. "Where's El?"  
  
"I don't know. I can't see anything," the other man growled.  
  
"Then just do everyone a favor and shut your trap." A grin spread across his face as he listened, hearing the men walking towards them. He knew that if it was dusk when El had picked him up, the sun was long past down by now. It was pitch black in the house, but that didn't bother him. He lived in the darkness. He stood, not wasting a moment, as he fired into the darkness. He heard several yelps and then quiet. How many were actually in there, he wondered briefly.  
  
"Sands?" El's voice broke through his concentration.  
  
Sands jerked his head around so he was facing the mariachi. "What?"  
  
"Do you hear anything?"  
  
"Your babbling," the former agent answered without hesitation, but then paused to listen again. There was nothing above the night breeze, which wasn't much, and the sound of a house. No creaking of floorboards under the feet of cartel men, no uncontrolled breathing in the room that would signify that the men had been running from his shower of bullets. Nothing but his, El's, and Lorenzo's steady breathing. "I think it's clear," he said quietly, finally giving into an urge to lean heavily against the couch he'd hid behind.  
  
"You think or you know?" Lorenzo growled.  
  
"You wanna be next?"  
  
That shut him up, for the moment at least. Sands focused on not falling over the side arm of the sofa and, ungracefully, landing on either the floor or anything around it. He would not show weakness around El Mariachi or his friends. It was a simple thing, wasn't it? Standing up strait... Why did his head feel so light and his balance was all off? Oh yeah... loss of blood, that'd do it.  
  
Lorenzo, who had disappeared to another room, reentered when the lights did. He looked around at the bodies strewn all over the living room and sighed. "This is what I was talking about, El."  
  
El sighed loudly and glanced over at their third companion. He was pale under his tan and leaning far too heavily on the couch. "Sands?"  
  
"What?" came the agitated reply.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
Sands pushed himself off the couch, turned as if he were going to say something, and promptly crumbled to the ground. He vaguely heard El shouting something to him and Lorenzo grumbling about more blood on the carpet and then nothing.  
  
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"Listen, I had a lot of respect for him and what he can do, but as long as he stayed far away from me," Lorenzo said as he tied the last body up in a bag. He glanced over at the unconscious American on his couch. "I'm not going to protect him again, El. Either get him out of here or I'll hand him over and get a reward next time they come looking for him."  
  
El sighed and turned his eyes from his friend, to Sands, and then back to Lorenzo. "I'll take him with me, then."  
  
"You're leaving?"  
  
"I was planning on going before his. You know that he wasn't the only person they were after last night."  
  
Lorenzo frowned. "I'm not running you off, El. You're my friend and I'm not kicking you out." He paused, looking the elder man in the eye carefully. "Why are you really helping him?"  
  
"As I said earlier."  
  
"Then you really want to go chasing after the cartel with a blind man? That's suicide."  
  
"Did you know," El began as he lit a cigarette, "that he was the one that hired us a year ago?"  
  
Lorenzo frowned at this. "I don't care. El, do what you want. Hell, I know you can take care of yourself, but still be careful, okay?"  
  
El smiled tightly. "Sure."  
  
"Call Fideo and me for back up when you get to that point."  
  
The mariachi eyed him for a moment. "Just two seconds ago..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, but then I thought about the money that we could get off of it," he answered with a grin. "Now get going."  
  
El chuckled at this before walking over to collect the blind American and start for the car.  
  
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Sands came back to reality with a pounding headache and pain radiating over every limb. He groaned slightly and shifted his weight. Where was he? They were moving... A car? Shit... Had they caught him after he collapsed?  
  
"Sit still."  
  
The former CIA agent relaxed a fraction at the sound of the mariachi's voice. "Where are we going?"  
  
"Somewhere more safe. We were putting Lorenzo in danger."  
  
Sands sighed as he shifted again, trying to find a comfortable position. "I've got somewhere to go. They won't look there, unless they follow us."  
  
"Where's that?"  
  
Sands grimaced as he turned his face towards the mariachi. "In Culiacan. Jorge Ramirez's house."  
  
"How do I find that?"  
  
"I don't care. Phone book?"  
  
El glanced at the American in the passenger's seat. The bandages that he had wrapped around Sands' wound earlier were all ready dark red with blood. It was a good day's travel to Culiacan from where they were. Well, a good day's travel unless he pushed it. One more glance at the man next to him and he decided it was time to push it.  
  
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A/N: Okay, finished a chapter in the morning, so I MIGHT have one out by this evening. That's a big maybe, though. :) Hope it was good!  
  
LaVieSansAmour: I'm glad I'm keeping them all in character. Yay! That was one of my major fears with this story is that I wouldn't be able to. Oh, don't worry, I don't think I'd write a fic where Jack and Ana REALLY hated each other.... But a fake spat... Hmm... ::gets ideas::  
  
Sands-Gasms: Ah! Thank you! You're so nice!! Hope this chapter lived up to your expectations.  
  
Charm65: Keeping them in character is my biggest problem on this, lol! This is my first OUATIM fic, so I'm kinda getting a feel for it. Glad I've got them in character though :) People tend to say I keep the characters very in character, so I'm glad this isn't an exception.  
  
Vanillafluffy: I think I'll have Fideo show up later. I like drunk characters, they're fun ::grins:: You would have gotten your money from it, but of course our wonderful Sands won! Thanks for the idea for the chapter name :)  
  
A/N: ::looking over reviews:: Ya'll really like it? Cool! I'm really excited (really, you just made my day!) because I thought this story was going to suck and everyone was going to be like "what are you doing writing, you dolt! Go back to PotC and leave this fandom alone!" But you didn't! Yay! Sorry... I'm really happy I'm getting people in character and all that jazz. Much thanks! 


	4. ch4

**Chapter Four: Dreams and Bad News**  
  
A/N: Yay! I just bought Sleepy Hollow! (it takes me a long time to see/buy movies....) I love that movie! It's great! $10 isn't a bad deal for a DVD, ne? I also so a Desperado/OUATIM combo DVD set for $34, and I would have bought it if I weren't saving for my trip that I'm going on Thursday. Oh well....  
  
El found the house with little trouble, surprisingly enough. He left the half-conscious American in the car as he walked up to the front door and pounded on it. A man that he recognized from the fiasco a year before answered the door. Ramirez seemed a bit taken back that the El Mariachi was standing at this doorstep. "Can I help you?"  
  
"You know Sheldon Sands."  
  
Ramirez eyed him carefully. "I do."  
  
"Good. Then you'll help."  
  
Ramirez followed dumbly as El pulled him along to the car. He sighed when he saw Sands' still form. "Typical," he groaned. "How bad is he?"  
  
"He needs a doctor and a safe place to stay," El said as he opened the door and placed a hand on the former agent's shoulder, assuring him that it was just him.  
  
"And that place would be my house?" Ramirez grumbled.  
  
Sands gave him a half grin. "Hey ya, Jorge. Long time no see."  
  
Ramirez glared. "I don't feel guilty about leaving you on that street, you know," he stated calmly, though his voice held a very small ounce of agitation in it. "You got yourself into the mess."  
  
"I did," Sands agreed. "But ya know, I wouldn't have been too upset with you if you'd just left me without a word, but you were just oh so kind as to leave me with that annoying phrase... Let's see, what was it....?"  
  
"Fine," Ramirez growled. "He can stay here."  
  
"Knew you'd say that," Sands said.  
  
If he were fully truthful with himself and his two new guests, Ramirez would have told him that he had felt guilty the past year. He'd heard rumors about Sands, and that had eased the guilt a bit. The man was alive well, therefore there was no harm done, but now he knew he had to even the score. Sands knew it too. That was worse.  
  
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The doctor had come and gone, promising his silence in between. About an hour after he had left, El had walked out the door telling Ramirez that there were things he needed to get done if the cartel wasn't to follow them there and he'd return in two days. The former FBI agent had nearly protested, but decided against it when he thought about his home being a hit for the cartel.  
  
"You've been surprisingly quiet for you," Ramirez said as he entered the small guest room that Sands was staying in.  
  
The former agent stirred and turned his face in the other man's general direction. "I've been sleeping."  
  
"Sorry." Ramirez didn't sound like he meant it. He sighed and shuffled through a few things that Sands couldn't identify, then moved closer. "The doctor left this for you to take."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Painkillers, antibiotics, and who knows what else."  
  
Sands turned up his nose. "Wonderful. Could be anything."  
  
Ramirez chuckled. "Just take it."  
  
"Where's El?"  
  
"I don't know. He said he'd be back in a couple days."  
  
Sands nodded, swallowing the pills. He surprised himself. Two days – or had it been more, he couldn't tell – before he would have scoffed at the man before him. Sheldon Jeffery Sands needed no help from anyone. Now here he sat in Jorge Ramirez's house, taking pills that he had no idea what they really were, and waiting for a man he never thought he'd see again.... well, technically he never would, but metaphorically.  
  
"There's still one more," Ramirez's voice broke his thoughts.  
  
"I know that."  
  
Ramirez shrugged. "How do I know what you know and what you don't?"  
  
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_ The drill was coming closer and Sands heard himself scream. The room swayed as pain erupted throughout his skull and a second scream came from his lips.  
  
"You never saw it coming, did you?"  
  
I'll never see anything.... I'm blind... There's no miracles to be had.... They ripped my eyes from me and the CIA left me to rot... Now what? What do I do now?  
  
Sands heard himself groan as a new pain came from his ribs. Wait... They hadn't... It was just his eyes – or lack there of – that they'd hurt. Right?  
_  
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"Sands?"  
  
Sands jerked awake and found himself groaning loudly as the pain in his side did not disappear with the dream. "What?" he growled.  
  
"You were dreaming." That was Ramirez. He was certain of it now. "You've been out for a couple days."  
  
"Have I?"  
  
"Well, I think so. Kinda hard to tell."  
  
"Rub it in, why don't you?"  
  
"That's our warped friendship in a nutshell," Ramirez grumbled. "El's back."  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"Getting guns together. Apparently someone who was supposed to die during the fiasco last year didn't."  
  
"He's being employed by the cartel again," El's voice reached Sands' ears.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Dr. Guevera."  
  
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A/N: Waii! I've been wanting to do this! Bring him into it. Much much Sands angst! ::giggles sadistically:: Maybe THIS is why my boyfriend is buying me a straitjacket for my b-day.....  
  
I know that I didn't give everyone time to review, sorry!! I just ended up getting this chappy out on time which I didn't expect until it happened  
  
E.S. Young: Well, I have to or I'll forget about it/loose interest and it'll end up like all my anime fanfiction. Sitting there with a review every blue moon and me forgetting to write on it. I'm glad you liked that line. I did too! Hehe... Oh, what's that? I don't like Sands? When did I say that? I adore him, he's just... a bit self centered. He's Johnny Depp, how could I NOT adore him? ::huggles Sands and avoids getting shot::  
  
Raphe1: Is this prompt enough? The same day! Yay! That isn't normally done. It was kinda a stretch to get it done. I just hope I can get the story done before I leave on vacation Thursday b/c I don't have a laptop. I'll write on it, but it'll be the ol' pen and paper. Glad you liked it! 


	5. ch5

**Chapter Five: Finding Trouble**  
  
A/N: Ah... Time to sit and start writing. Well... Time to sit and start writing fanfiction. I've been working on a short horror story that I've got running around through my hollow skull. It's been driving me mad all day b/c things are getting clearer and clearer about it. I love that point in writing! I was trying to clean the bathroom and the characters just kept speaking (wow that sounds nuts, doesn't it! That's not what I mean!!) and their lines just kept running through my head until I sat down to write. Then I got a review and thought, "oh yeah.... Fanfiction... hehe... oops" So here I am. Yay! Oh, if anyone would like to read what I've got on that story and tell me what I can do better on it, please let me know :)

Sands froze. He'd never wanted to hear that name again. In his mind, somehow that man was worse than Barillo. Barillo might have hired Guevera, but Guevera was the one that had delightfully ripped his eyes from their rightful place.  
  
"Sands?"  
  
That was El's voice, but he couldn't respond. He felt the air leave his lungs and a sense of panic fill him like he hadn't been filled with since he came stumbling out of that building.  
  
"Sands?"  
  
_Respond, idiot. Make some sort of intelligent response._  
  
He felt El's hand clasp his shoulder and he reeled back involuntarily, his body retracting from any sort of touch. What if the past year had been a dream and he was still with that insane doctor? What if these people that he at least half way trusted – never would admit that out loud, but if the voices in your head were the only recipients of the information then it was okay, right? – were just a figment of an over active imagination and a want to be out.  
  
"Sands! Snap out of it!" El growled as he watched the shaking gunman. This wasn't like him.  
  
"_Don't_. _Touch_. _Me_," Sands growled each word out. "Just don't..."  
  
El caught him as he pitched forward, exhaustion etched into his face. His glasses slipped down his nose a bit and the mariachi had to look away for a moment. He sighed and then eased the other man back into a comfortable position. "You back?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What was that?" Ramirez, almost forgotten in the chaos, asked.  
  
Sands brought a shaky hand to his face and pushed the glasses up his nose and ran his hand through his shoulder length hair. "Nothing. You saw nothing."  
  
"Oh I saw something," Ramirez said as he came closer. "If Guevera comes after you and you have a mental breakdown you're not going to last long."  
  
"Shut up," Sands growled. He was shaking now, badly. He felt like he were burning alive and freezing to death all at the same time. The fever was back. He fell against the pillows and turned to bury his face in them. "Just go away."  
  
"It's my house, Sands."  
  
"Just get the hell out!" Sands yelled as he through the nearest thing near him – which happened to be his pillow – and smacked Ramirez upside the head with it.  
  
El watched this play out and he watched as the former CIA agent fell back against the bed once more, wincing and groaning. The American curled up into a ball on the bed, the sheets twisting around him as sweat began to bead on his face. The mariachi sighed as he looked at him once more before turning his eyes back to Ramirez. "We'll wait for them to make the first move. Then that will give him time to heal."  
  
Ramirez motioned for the mariachi to follow and they stepped out of the room and closed the door. He kept his voice low. "He hasn't healed in a year."  
  
"I meant physically," El responded slowly. "That's all we can hope for at the moment. Mentally... Sands never struck me as a stable person."  
  
Ramirez chuckled at this. "Why do you think they sent him here?"  
  
"Is that why they haven't come for him?"  
  
The other man nodded. "I'd guess so."  
  
----------------------  
  
Over the next several days the two men forced pills down the delirious American's throat and forced him to lie as still as they could get him. His fever would drop off and then skyrocket the next day, leaving his body with the shakes for hours on end, exhausting all the strength he had.  
  
"If they attack now, he's a dead man," Ramirez said.  
  
The sudden yell from Sands' direction sent both men stumbling into the room. The former agent was sitting up with a bewildered expression across his face.  
  
"Sands?" El called carefully. The American was mumbling something to himself as he approached.  
  
"...set 'em up and watch them fall... _**What**_?" He growled out the last part.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Oh peachy keen, El," he said sarcastically. "I've got a hole in me and Guevera probably can't wait to get his hands on me again and see what ELSE he can take from me." He sighed and put his hand to his face. "Are we still waiting for their first move?"  
  
"Until your ready."  
  
"I'm ready."  
  
El chuckled. "Sure."  
  
Sands glared, but the glare turned into a sly grin. "We can start planning."  
  
"We?"  
  
"'Course, El, you're going to come with me, remember?"  
  
El smiled a bit. Good.  
  
----------------------  
  
Sands was taking it slow, or so he'd told El and Ramirez. And he was... really. He'd managed to get out of the house early to scout out the area. The last thing he wanted was to get turned around and not know where anything was.  
  
The sound of footsteps made him uncomfortable. He pulled his cell phone out and called the number at Ramirez's place. "Jorge?"  
  
"Where'd you end up? We've been looking for you all morning."  
  
"I think... I'm in trouble." Sands heard the steps quicken and he whirled around, reaching for his gun, but something solid connected with his head and there was no more.  
  
--------------------  
  
Raphe1: I like Ramirez, therefore he just had to come in. Anyway, he had to make it up to Sands for that horrible comment he left him with. Who says "See ya later" to a blind man?! Yeah, this one might be longer than most. Most of my stories are either six or eight chapters long, but I don't know about this one. I'll let it make up its own mind  
  
Charm65: Quite a few people have, actually. Lol. I think I loose people's interest if I don't update daily. I don't know what will happen when I got off for five or six days on vacation! ::sobs:: hopefully everyone'll read when I get back!  
  
LaVieSansAmour: Oh? Is your story updated? Yeah, poor Sands, and poor everyone around him. He's going to have a nervous breakdown by the end of it! Oh wait... that'd be an interesting idea ::jots down notes:: You know, I was actually thinking about not updating today b/c I was busy on my other story, but I decided to go ahead since you were asking for a quick on lol :) ::scurries off to see if you updated::  
  
E.S.Young: Haha! S'okay, I get confused easily. Thanks for clearing it up :) Yes! Sands angst!! ::giggles sadistically::  
  
A/N: There's a spider that's living on my computer desk. I've tried to kill him all day. Now, you must understand, I'm very frightened of spiders. (not Ichabod Crane kind of frightened, I save that for the massive ones of which we have few of where I live). Still, I'm not one to like them. ::shudders:: And it jumps too....


	6. ch6

**Chapter Six: Torture Session  
**  
"Idiot!" Ramirez growled as he slammed the phone down on the receiver.  
  
El glanced up from his guitar. "What happened?"  
  
"We've lost Sands."  
  
---------------------------------  
  
He was pretty sure he was awake, although when one lives in never- ending darkness, one can never truly be sure. Sands let a low groan escape his lips and felt a hand collide with his face, jerking his head to one side.  
  
"You will not make a sound unless we tell you to," someone growled in Spanish.  
  
"Screw you," Sands bit out.  
  
He was fully expecting the second hit and so was prepared for it. "I said-"  
  
"I know what you _said_," Sands answered. "Now what do you _want_?"  
  
An eerie chuckle came from what sounded like the entranceway. "Agent Sands, we've got some experiments we'd like to conduct."  
  
Sands froze. "Guevera."  
  
"Sì." Sands could hear the malicious grin in the psychotic doctor's voice. "Now, Agent Sands, hold still. This might hurt...."  
  
------------------------  
  
It took several hours before the screams came from behind closed doors. Several hours before Sands finally gave in.  
  
_They're not coming for you_.  
  
_ Shut up.  
_  
_ Just like the CIA. They left you. Your new friends left you. Your really quite worthless to everyone, aren't you, Sheldon?_  
  
"Just shut up..."  
  
Sands heard a chuckle. "Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."  
  
"You must have crossed that line long ago," Sands spat. He struggled against the chains that attached his hands to the top of a bedpost. "What the hell do you want? Torture me to death?"  
  
"It has its appeals."  
  
"Sick bastard."  
  
----------------------  
  
"That's the place," El said as he lit a cigarette.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Sì," El answered, letting the smoke escape from his mouth. "We go in now?"  
  
Ramirez looked over his shoulder. "Yeah, we'll go in now."  
  
--------------------------  
  
"Señor, there's someone in the building."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"We don't know. A man with a guitar.... We think...."  
  
Sands chuckled from his place where he was tied up. "You're dead, you know that, don't you, Guevera? El Mariachi hasyour number and there you go."  
  
"And your FBI friend, I'm sure is with him. We've tracked you well, Agent Sands."  
  
"Won't do you any good."  
  
Guevera sighed as he moved closer to the agent, something in his hand. Sands inched away the best he could, but could not avoid the needle as it made its way to his neck. "So sorry, Señor Sands, but I can't let you get away and live. You know too much this time."  
  
"Yeah? It'll be your funeral."  
  
"Perhaps, but yours as well."  
  
The doors slammed open and the semi-conscious American heard the sound of El Mariachi walking into the room, guns cocked and ready. There were several definite sounds of a gun being fired and men hitting the ground. He was almost sure he heard the sound of running footsteps, but they were silenced some way down the hall.  
  
"Sands?"  
  
"Heya, El," the American managed, his voice sounding slurred with the drugs in his system. "Why're you here?"  
  
"To rescue you."  
  
"Oh." This came out in a breath before Sands' head lulled to one side, his body relaxing as he lost all awareness.  
  
"How is he?"  
  
El looked behind him to see Ramirez with his gun in his hand. He had made sure Guevera was dead this time, from the look on his face. "I don't know what they've given him," the mariachi said quietly as he worked at the ropes that were cutting into the American's wrists.  
  
"We'll figure that out later. For now let's just get him out of here."  
  
El nodded as the last knot came undone and he picked the unconscious man up, grabbing the pair of sunglasses that lay discarded on the table on his way out.  
  
----------------------  
  
A/N: I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow! Washington DC until Tuesday! Yay! Anyway, I MIGHT update tomorrow, but I doubt it. I've got a job interview before I go and then I'll be heading out. :)  
  
Raphe1: Ah! No evil doctors! I need my eyes! I'm an artist, I have to be able to see to make a living! And anyway, if I can't see, then I can't update! So ha! You better keep all evil doctors away from me. :)  
  
LaVieSandsAmour: Well he's Johnny Depp. He's a beautiful man. Hehe... He's twice my age, but he's still lovely. Ah yes, peachy keen.... Hehe... My friend Anna Maxwell uses that term a lot, so it managed to slither its way into my writings. It just struck me as something Sands would say in his oh so sarcastic manner he uses.  
  
VanillaFluffy: What are cohones? Dare I ask..... 


	7. ch7

**Chapter Seven: Sleepless Nights**  
  
A/N: I'm back from Washington DC! It was absolutely wonderful! I loved it! Call me strange, but I like the subway system (when it's not crowded) I don't have one in my city, so it was a fairly new experience for me. I had a great time, played tourist. I live in a tourist town normally, so I'm used to yelling at the tourists, not BEING one. Hehe... Nearly got run over by a taxi cab and came oh so close to flicking him off, but my parents were right there. I want to the National Spy Museum! But I didn't like it very well... Too crowded and geared towards younger people, I think. I did get a CIA T-shirt and baseball cap! I thought of dear Sheldon while buying it... hehe... Thought of what I'd do to him when I came back! Anyway, onto writing.  
  
------------  
  
"I know nothing of it."  
  
Ramirez looked from the doctor, to El, back to the doctor, and then to the tossing American agent on the bed. Sands was pale and shaky as he lay there, fingers clenched tightly into a fist around the sheets and his mouth closed as if to keep himself from yelling out in pain. He shuddered violently, turning from one side to another. If he had had the strength, he would have felt humiliated.  
  
"You have to know something of it," El told the doctor. "Anything."  
  
The doctor shook his head. "I know an American. He might know. But I do not."  
  
Ramirez nodded as he showed the doctor out, leaving El alone with the American man. The mariachi moved closer to him, careful not to startle him. "Sands?"  
  
Sands froze where he was tossing and turned his head in the other man's general direction. "What?" he growled through clenched teeth. "What'd your doctor have to say, hmm?"  
  
"He knows nothing."  
  
"Oh there's a shocker," Sands grumbled as he curled up in a ball on his side, back to El. "So I just cold turkey this and hope it's not poison, is that it?"  
  
"He said he knows an American doctor..."  
  
This brought the former CIA agent strait up into a sitting position. "No! No... That's not just a no that's a hell no! El, I swear I'll shoot you strait between the eyes if you even THINK about bringing an American doctor in here..."  
  
"I would have thought you'd have jumped on it," Ramirez said from the door.  
  
"American doctors have connections, Jorge my dear friend. He'll rat me out to the CIA in no time."  
  
"And what if they could help you more than the doctors here?" Ramirez shot back. "You'll curl up and die here because of your insufferable pride?"  
  
"There's a reason they didn't come for me after everything went to hell in a hand basket a year ago. I don't plan to find out any time soon what that is."  
  
Ramirez and El exchanged glances. "Fine," the former FBI agent said at last. "But if you wake me up in the middle of the night screaming in pain then I'm calling that doctor, deal?"  
  
"Whatever."  
  
-----------------------  
  
Sands had his back to the mariachi and he was curled as tight as he could get. Sweat poured off of him as he shivered beneath three thick quilts. He groaned as he turned again, this time onto his back. "Why are you still here?" he grumbled.  
  
"I didn't want to find a dead body in the morning," El answered. "Anyway, you still might be useful."  
  
"Ah, well listen here, El, I'm not going to be your toy if that's what you think... I may be out of it now, but that doesn't mean-"  
  
"I never said it did."  
  
"Well good." Sands bit his bottom lip and turned his face into his pillow, letting out a loud groan that was muffled by the feathers. He shuddered once and El was certain he was trying to contain a scream of pain. He could only contain it so long.  
  
"If you woke Jorge, the doctor will be here soon."  
  
"I didn't wake him..." Sands mumbled breathlessly as he shivered. His body heaved as a coughing fit overtook him and he tried to push himself into a sitting position, failed miserably, and fell back against the bed.  
  
El leaned forward cautiously and saw the crimson that stained the American's hand and pillow beneath his lips. He gritted his teeth in frustration. "Sands?" There was no response as the other man went limp. Too limp. "Sands?" The mariachi shook him once and then once more rougher than the first time. "Shit. Jorge!"  
  
-------------------  
  
The doctor stepped out of the room and closed the door. "He's awake."  
  
"He probably wasn't very pleased with your presence," Ramirez muttered. "Stubborn son of a-"  
  
The doctor held up his hand with a tired smile on his lips, cutting the smaller man off. "The poison that was injected into Mr. Sands' system is ripping him apart from the inside out. There's little I can do here, but I'll call for some medicines that should help. It will reverse some of the damage done, if he follows instructions well enough. If you'd waited any longer...."  
  
"Thank you for coming," El said quietly.  
  
"Why... Why didn't he want an American doctor? I saw he's obviously been through quite a bit. I'm guessing he's some sort of rouge American agent of the government. I told him if that was the case, I would not turn him in. My duty is only to get him well, not toss him over to his government."  
  
The two other men nodded as he left, promising to return with the medicine in the morning. Until then, they were to keep Sands as comfortable as possible.  
  
"You go sleep," Ramirez said. "I'll take my turn with the monster."  
  
"I heard that," Sands grumbled.  
  
"You hear everything," Ramirez retorted as he closed the door. "Now just sleep. That lets me sleep too. Then neither of us will be cranky in the morning."  
  
This brought a weak chuckle from the former CIA agent. "You know..."  
  
"Let me guess, 'if this isn't inter agency cooperation, you don't know what is'?"  
  
"That too," Sands mumbled, his words getting slurred from the drugs the doctor had obviously been able to give him to dull the pain of the poison running through his system. He shuddered suddenly and sat up, reaching for a trashcan he knew was there.  
  
Ramirez looked away out of respect for the other man as he wretched. When he looked back around, Sands was falling weakly to the bed and shivering again. "You know," he started again, his voice scratchy this time, "you two – you and El – are the closest things to friends I've got here." His voice trailed off in the last couple of words as his head lulled to one side and Ramirez realized he'd drifted off, body unable to stay awake under the pressure it was under.  
  
The former FBI agent gave a long sigh as he reached over to lightly check the other man's face for the fever that was burning him up. A small smile made its way to his lips. "Yeah, I know."  
  
--------------------------------  
  
A/N: ::points at Sands:: That's how I felt Saturday morning! Just incase anyone wants to know... I managed to get sick on my lovely trip, but Sands is going to go through a bit more than I am. ::evil grin:: Me, I got over it in a couple of hours.... Sands... C'mon, Saiko's the author. He'll be lucky if he gets out of it at all....  
  
LaVieSansAmour: Awesome! Caribbean! Jack! ::giggles:: Well have fun, mate! I suppose by the time you read this you'll have been there and back. I've never been on a cruise before, but I'd like to. My senior class was talking about taking a cruise next year, but we decided against it. Not enough money really. Ah well. Have fun!  
  
Raphe1: Thank you so much for pointing that out! I'd love to sit there and go "yes... umm.. that's it, he's just paranoid.." but I can't. ::sigh:: That was just my brain being sound to sleep. I probably should look into getting a beta reader (or simply doing more than skimming the chapter before posting). Oh, and yes, I am evil. Thanks very much :)  
  
E.S.Young: Yeah, he's dead. Ramirez got him GOOD this time. Yes, we all feel bad for Sands, but we also all love it in some twisted and thoroughly warped way...  
  
Charm65: You don't know how happy it makes me when I hear I've got Sands in character! I was so scared about that when I started this fic. I hope to continue that way... Oh, my interview went really well, and I think I got the job, but crazy me, I don't think I'm going to take it... Not enough time to do that and some other things. Though I'm sure I'll try to do it during my first school break  
  
VanillaFluffy: Hint to you and all other reviewers: I'm oblivious. I thought that was what you meant, but I wasn't entirely sure. My boyfriend was over when I picked your review up and I went, "huh, what's that?" and he made a guess.... THAT was interesting to say the least.  
  
Kaiji West: Thanks very much!  
  
Naomi: Well, you still don't know if he's okay, but I did struggle to get this chapter out just for you. I'm exhausted and about to fall over, but I've got that sleep deprived energy thing going right now, so I thought, "hey! Poor Sands needs me to write on his story!" Haha! So here it is! Glad you like the story and hopefully I'll see ya back on the reviews when you get back, ne?  
  
Empath89: I updated as soon as I could, per your request! Glad you like it!  
  
Sleepy time calls to Saiko-chan.... ::wanders off like a zombie and promptly falls down the stairs in a heap:: 


	8. ch8

**Chapter Eight: New Guests arrive**  
  
A/N: Sorry for not updating yesterday! Wild day, to say the least. I was going here there and everywhere. But it was fun! :)  
  
-------------------  
  
The morning light through the window woke Jorge Ramirez the next morning. He stirred from his place in a chair he'd sunken into the night before and glanced over at the former CIA agent that occupied his one guest bed. Sands was pale, but at least he'd stopped shivering. That was a good thing, right?  
  
Ramirez stood and approached the slightly younger man, feeling his forehead for a fever. It was still there, burning him alive. He sighed as he moved away from the ill man, careful not to wake him.  
  
"The doctor's at the door," El's hushed whisper reached his ears.  
  
Ramirez briefly wondered when the mariachi had entered the room. "Well get him in here. I'm not paying for the idiot's funeral," he grumbled.  
  
This brought a small smirk from El. "Somehow," he said quietly as he moved back towards the door, "I think none of us mean the things we say when we speak that way."  
  
"Somehow you're probably right."  
  
El nodded and disappeared to fetch the doctor.  
  
----------------------  
  
It was three days of torture after that for the people under Jorge Ramirez's roof, and for Sands most of all. Nightmares plagued the former CIA agent as he tossed and turned in the bed, the medicine the doctor had given him attempting to work. His screams echoed through the small house, no longer bringing the two other men running to the room. It was simply part of the day now. An irritation at worst.  
  
El closed his guitar case with a resounding thump as he stood. "How long until the medicine works?"  
  
Ramirez shrugged. "Sometime soon, hopefully. This is the fourth day?"  
  
"Sì."  
  
"Well then it should work soon."  
  
"How do you figure that?"  
  
"Wishful thinking."  
  
The screams stopped suddenly and the two men looked at each other before standing and walking into the small back bedroom. Sands lay there, still breathing, but very still. He let out a low groan and brought his hand to his head. "Where the hell are my sunglasses?" he grumbled.  
  
Ramirez allowed a small grin to spread across his face. "Looks like today is the day it works," he mumbled to the mariachi as he stepped closer to former CIA agent and handed him the sunglasses. "You, my friend, are one very lucky bastard, you know that?"  
  
"So I've been told many a time before. How long have I been out?"  
  
"Several days. The doctor left an hour or so ago."  
  
"No sign of any unwanted guests, huh?"  
  
Ramirez shook his head, but then mumbled a "no".  
  
"Give it time," Sands answered. "Even if he didn't call them, they'll know."  
  
"You're so sure?" El asked from the doorway. "Perhaps they don't want to find you."  
  
"One could only hope." Sands sat up slowly, popping his neck as he did. He stopped just as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "That was a car door."  
  
"Probably next door," Ramirez said, but started to the window nevertheless.  
  
"No, it was in front of your house."  
  
Ramirez sighed as he looked out the window to see a red sports car with a young man and woman coming from it towards the door. He mumbled a curse and then turned towards Sands. "Stay here or I'll take no responsibility for you, you hear me?"  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Could be nothing. Could be something. Just stay put. El, stay with him."  
  
Sands listened as Ramirez left the room and he strained his hears. The knocks on the door counted to three and Ramirez's steps were slow, as not to show any type of anxiousness. The door opened and he heard talking. "Who is it?" he hissed quietly.  
  
"I don't know," El answered.  
  
Sands stood and leaned against the wall. The walls were thin and he'd never thought he'd be glad for that.  
  
A woman's voice was the first he heard. "Señor Ramirez, we have no desire to harm Agent Sands. We're old friends of his, please. We know you were brought in to help a year ago, our intelligence has lead us that far..."  
  
"Then you're a bit behind, aren't you?" Ramirez said simply. "I'm quite busy, Ms..."  
  
"Agent Bethany Cromwell. Please, Señor Ramirez. We just want to find Sheldon."  
  
Sands froze when he heard the name. He knew he'd heard the voice many a time before, but he couldn't put the face with the voice. He'd never made much of an effort to memorizing people's voices before he lost his site. Now he wished he had. "Who are you with, Beth," he mumbled.  
  
"We wanted to this the easiest way we could," a second voice said, male this time. "We'll give you one more chance, Mr. Ramirez."  
  
"I told you I don't know where he is!"  
  
Sands heard the sound of a gun cocking. Now, he'd never been one for self-sacrifice. He briefly wondered what was the matter with him when he thought about stepping out to Jorge Ramirez's rescue. True, the other man was risking his life for the former CIA agent, but he had no idea why.  
  
He sighed when the name finally clicked in his mind that fit the voice that had threatened the former FBI agent. Time to step out. He heard El's startled sound from behind him, the mariachi never expecting him to make his next move. Well, he was unpredictable, that was still in his favor.  
  
"C'mon, Bryan, leave the poor guy alone," he said as he stepped out from behind the door, still leaning heavily on the wall. His knees were threatening to collapse beneath him. Just a little longer. He'd probably be shot on the spot anyway, friends or not. Bryan Russell had always been strait laced.  
  
"Sheldon!" Bethany's voice reached his ears as he heard her footsteps nearing him and her arms go around his neck. "I knew you weren't dead, stubborn idiot."  
  
"Since when have we been so close?"  
  
She pulled back and slapped him. "You ass hole! Never do that again!" she yelled.  
  
This made Sands chuckle. "There's the Bethany Cromwell we all know and hate."  
  
Bryan Russell chuckled as he put the safety back on his gun. "Is this where you've been hiding out, Sands? Didn't feel like coming back to the States?"  
  
"Didn't think I was wanted after botching it."  
  
"Botching it?" Bryan echoed. "Hell no. You did what you were sent here to do. We were looking for you. Richardson was asked to step down, though. I think it had something to do with your disappearance and the record of you asking for reinforcements."  
  
"They fired him over that? I knew I was worth something. No one ever listened."  
  
"So I take it these are friends from the CIA, hmm?" Ramirez asked, his voice agitated.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Bethany laughed at this. "The closest thing Sands has ever had to friends. We all graduated in the same class. What the hell are these, Sands? Wearing glasses indoors now? You were always strange."  
  
Sands grabbed her wrist as she reached up to his glasses. "Don't."  
  
"What? Go blind while you were gone, Sheldon?" she asked lightly, plucking the glasses off with her other hand. Her breath stopped in her throat as he turned away.  
  
"My word, Sands, what happened to you?" Bryan managed.  
  
"This," Sands growled as he snatched his glasses back, "is what happens when your superior officer doesn't send in backup." That said he turned back to the room he was staying in and slammed the door, ignoring the fact that he nearly slammed it on El.  
  
"How did you find him?" the mariachi asked.  
  
"We've been trying to find him since the day he disappeared. I've been down here this past year, and Bryan joined me a week ago. We came up on this lead." She stopped, looking towards the door. "What happened to him?"  
  
"It's a bit of a long story," El said as he sat down. The two agents joined him, ready and more than willing to hear it out.  
  
------------------------  
  
Raphe1: Haha! Glad you're glad. Good ol' Sands. He's so good for hurting. I was trying to explain to my boyfriend yesterday how I tend to like the movies/animes/mangas that have characters whose pasts are possibly angsty or their personality can be used for such and all that lovely stuff and he just stared at me. He thinks I'm nuts and I haven't really given him much of a reason to believe otherwise... Ah well...  
  
ES Young: Well, in the spy museum you can buy tickets ahead of time. So next time just go and get tickets for later in the afternoon or something. That's what my folks and I did. Worked out nicely. Ah... The art museum was great! I was told by an artist friend of mine to go check out "The girl in the red hat" and I FINALLY found it. Took forever, but I found it. Really nice piece. Anyway, back to discussions of the lovely and hissy Sheldon Sands! Hehe... Yes! He is stubborn! But that makes him a great character to write on! I fell sort of bad for him, but not TOO bad, or else I wouldn't write it :)  
  
Naomi: I rarely kill the main characters, if that's any comfort to you. (well, excluding villains, but hey...) I'm glad you got to read the last chapter before you left! Hope you remember to come back and read the rest :)  
  
Lunascorpio: That's how I did it. I watched the movie and immediately when searching for fanfiction. It's the best way :) Glad you like the story!  
  
Empath89: Everyone wants to hug Sands! Yay! Much Sands hugging! ::dodges bullets that come her way:: Ehh... Maybe not...  
  
VanilliaFluffy: I know, not a word Sands uses much. But keep in mind he was very very ill when he said it. Lol. The fever talking, but I think he meant it... We'll see...  
  
Sly-chan: Ah! Thanks for the suggestion. That's a good idea. Ah yes... My cliffhangers. I tend to try to leave every chapter with a cliffhanger. ::evil grin:: So expect many more!  
  
Charm65: I try (key word TRY) to update daily, and I figured I had to make up for five or six days lost so I updated as soon as I came home :) Then promptly didn't update yesterday. Figures... Oh well, here it is today! Hope you liked it! 


	9. ch9

**Chapter Nine: Pawns in the hand of the champ  
**  
Sheldon Sands pulled the blankets up around him, shivering in what would have been warm air if he were well. The after effects of the drug the mad doctor had given him were still lingering in his system, holding on until their last possible moment. He buried himself deeper into the bed when he heard the door open, mumbling for the person to leave before they got a bullet lodged between their eyes.  
  
The steps that followed the closing of the door were soft and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. Bethany leaned closer. "How ya fealling?"  
  
"Go away."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"I don't need to be watched over like a child."  
  
Bethany chuckled as she sat down on the bed next to him, toying with his long dark hair. "What if I want to watch over you?" she purred.  
  
"Not interested."  
  
"You never were."  
  
"I know how to spot a bitch."  
  
"Not from what your new friends tell me. What, you told her everything?"  
  
Over the past while that he'd been with Ramirez and El Sands had told them the main points of what had happened to him. He didn't want fact and fiction to become intertwined when they were involved. What the reason was for that, he couldn't say. He told them about Barillo's seductive daughter and how she'd used him and then thrown him away. They warned you about girls ripping your heart out, but they never mentioned your eyes.  
  
"That's not funny, Beth, and you know it. I'll blow your brains out if you don't leave."  
  
The dark haired lady leaned over him from her sitting position and noticed him tense under her smothering presence. "I'd think you'd be used to it, Sheldon," she purred. "A year you've been here and certainly you had to have someone helping you. Lost and blind... Why didn't you come running home?"  
  
"It's not like the CIA came looking for me."  
  
"But we did. I was sent to contact you last November."  
  
"Real nice job you did of it," Sands growled as he shoved her back, sending her tumbling off the bed in a huff. "Go away."  
  
She glared, even if he couldn't see it. "You know we're taking you back. You'd do better to have friends taking you back than enemies, Sheldon."  
  
"I don't have friends."  
  
"Ah. Then what are the two men that have been taking care of you?"  
  
"Pawns. Just like everyone else I meet."  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
It was the next day before Sands returned to the living room. He looked better than he had been. Colour had returned to his cheeks and his normal grace was back. "What are you staring at?" he growled when he was sure that at least three if not all four sets of eyes in the room were trained on him.  
  
"I've made arrangements for us to go back to DC," Bryan said quietly. "We'll leave this after noon, if you're up to it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Then tomorrow, but that's the latest."  
  
"I'm not going with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
Sands pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it, inhaling the smoke. "Because I've spent a year trying to get the cartel back for what they did to me and I'm not going back until I get what I stayed for."  
  
Bryan sat staring for a moment and heard Bethany stand, walking to another room. "Sands... We don't have that option."  
  
"Well make it."  
  
"I can't do that, Sands. You know that."  
  
"Tell 'em I slipped through your fingers one more time. Leave me down here for good. I don't care. I just want their heads."  
  
Bryan turned to Ramirez and El, then back to Sands. "You're nuts, Sheldon. Certifiable. I understand you've been though a lot, but damn it, I've got to take you back." He stood in his place and started toward the slightly shorter agent. "When Richardson was asked to step down, I stepped up, do you get that? I'm your commanding officer now and you will come with us."  
  
Sands snubbed out his cigarette and stood strait again. He flicked the other man off and turned, muttering a few choice words plenty loud to be heard, and started off.  
  
A gun cocked behind him. "Don't do this, Sands. I really don't want to kill you."  
  
Sands stopped where he was and sighed. He was next to the taller man before anyone knew what happened and had the gun wrenched from his hand. "Don't ever try to tell me what to do again as long as we're down here, got it, Russell? You have no idea what kind of hell I've been through. They ripped out my eyes, shithead, not that you'd know what that felt like." He pulled off his glasses, forcing the other man to see what he was talking about for the second time since they'd come. "I will not leave until I've had my revenge or died trying, savvy?"  
  
Bryan watched Sands storm off and he sighed, turning back to Ramirez. "I assume you were going to help him?"  
  
"I think El had some idea to, but I certainly didn't. I've done enough for him."  
  
Bryan nodded. "I can give him a week at most." He paused, looking closely at the mariachi now. "Why do they call you El?"  
  
Ramirez chuckled. "As in 'the.'"  
  
---------------------------  
  
"Russell's given him a week. Yeah, I know that can be a lot of time, but not if you act now. No... He's certainly not in the best state of mind, and I can make sure he's in less, but it'll cost you. What, it costs to sell out your former friends. Doesn't it down here? Got to go. Someone's coming. Call ya later. Adios."  
  
"What are you doing out here, Beth?"  
  
Bethany turned to see Bryan in the moonlight. "About to take a smoke, got a problem with that?"  
  
"Not one bit. Just thought you might want your cigarettes for that," her superior said slowly as he tossed a crumbled cart of cigarettes her direction. "Good night, Beth."  
  
She swallowed, watching him leave. "Good night, Bryan."  
  
------------------------  
  
A/N: So who's Bethany selling Sands out to? Is she selling Sands out or is it something else? Hmm... Who knows.... Oh wait, I do! ::evil laugh:: Sorry about this taking a while to come out and then being short. I'm struggling with a bit of writer's block on this. I've got a bunch of scenes for this in my head, but they're harder to piece together than I expected them to be. Oh well. :)  
  
Empath89: Hmmm... I don't know (well yes I do, but I can't tell you) I don't like Bethany, I can tell you that much. She's not a nice person, but neither is Sands and we all love him :)  
  
Charm65: Yes... Friends... Such a loose term when we're talking about Sands' acquaintances...  
  
Lunascorpio: You'll have to wait and see! I can't tell you or I'll spoil it !  
  
Sly-chan: everyone puts friends in quotations... No one seems to believe Sands CAN have friends... Aww, poor Sands.... ::huggles Sands and then avoids getting shot:: What do you mean by "a bit thick"?  
  
LAVieSansAmour: Glad to see you back! Did you have a good trip? Ahh... So lucky to go to the Caribbean....  
  
VanillaFluffy: "You're not paranoid if they really are after you" That's my motto for life. Lol! My boyfriend thinks I'm paranoid, which I probably am. I double lock every door in my house and jump at the slightest creak. But ah well... We'll see if Bethany's heard anything about the blind gunfighter. She seem to know more than she's letting on.... 


	10. ch10

**Chapter Ten: Getting the Pawns in place**  
  
Bethany found a patio door that led her into the room Sands was sleeping in, or at least where she thought he was sleeping.  
  
"Get out, Beth," he growled, aiming a gun at her.  
  
She blinked in the darkness. "Now, Sheldon, do you really want me to leave?"  
  
"You're such a slut, you know that?"  
  
"No more than Ajedrez and you screwed her, didn't you?"  
  
It felt like everything was spinning around him. Sands shook his head wildly, careful not to send his glasses flying. "Shut up. Just shut the hell up, Bethany."  
  
"No, someone's got to say it. I'm just the voice of reasoning that I've always been." She leaned forward to him and took his gun, noting his pained expression with a sense of sadistic satisfaction. "You bedded her, told her everything, and then she ripped your eyes out."  
  
"Then I killed her."  
  
"Really now?"  
  
"Yeah," Sands answered, his cool exterior returning. His voice dropped as he leaned next to her. "Like I'll do to you if I find out your screwing me over. Figuratively of course. Not even I'd drop as low as to sleep with you, Beth."  
  
He'd expected the slap, but not quite as hard as she dealt it. His glasses went flying and he scurried after them, trying to ignore her laugh. She reminded him of Ajedrez on so many different levels. "Get the hell out, Beth."  
  
"Fine by me, Sheldon."  
  
He heard her leave and fell back onto the bed. His jaw hurt. He'd make her pay in the morning.  
  
-------------  
  
"I was thinking maybe you should go back up to DC," Bryan Russell said at length as he sipped his coffee, staring over the mug at Bethany.  
  
The dark haired girl was leaning back in her chair, smoking. "Why's that? We can't leave without Sheldon and you said you'd give him a week."  
  
"I know," Bryan said quietly. "And I will. Really. I'm his friend before I'm his boss. I know how Sands gets." He paused, looking at her carefully. "Who did you call last night, Bethy?"  
  
"No one."  
  
"That's a load of bull and you know it."  
  
Bethany shrugged. "It's really none of your concern who I call on my personal line."  
  
"It is if it has to do with this mission and/or the people involved."  
  
"You think I'd sell you out?"  
  
"In a heart beat, Beth, I'm not stupid. You sold your own parents out when you were younger, later selling your country out. Why do I think you're any more loyal to the U.S.? Or even just to Sands and me?"  
  
"I don't know, why do you think that?"  
  
"I think the man was looking for a reason," El said from the doorway. "I wouldn't turn on Sands, senorita, or it'll be your end."  
  
Beth glared. "Why don't you go back to playing your sad little tunes and mumbling in your sleep about whoever it is you miss, El?" She stood. "El Mariachi, isn't it? That's why they call you El. I've heard El Mariachi picked up the so called 'Blind Gunfighter' sometime earlier. Would that be Sands, El?"  
  
"Ask him yourself. I won't tell what is not mine to tell."  
  
Bethany let a small grin spread across his face. "I'd suggest we get our dear Sheldon home before something bad happens, Bryan. You'll regret it if you don't."  
  
"He'll be fine, Bethy. He's good at what he does. It won't hurt us to let him go after the cartel for a week. The most it can do is help."  
  
She shrugged. "Your downfall."  
  
"Or perhaps it'll be yours," El said slowly. "That is what really has you worried, isn't it?"  
  
"You don't know hit," Bethany growled, storming past him.  
  
"Sorry, she gets like that."  
  
El shrugged. "She and Sands are a lot alike."  
  
"Too much."  
  
"She sold out her family?"  
  
Bryan nodded. "Yeah. Long story. They were spies over here – well, I meant in American - from Russia during the Cold War. She was young, but she knew what she was doing."  
  
El nodded slowly. "And you believe she'll sell you and Sands out?"  
  
"Bethy'll sell anyone out for money."  
  
"Does she have connections?"  
  
"Yes. All over. She's CIA."  
  
-------------------------  
  
Sands walked the streets slowly, counting each footstep he made. Bethany had followed him, he was sure. She'd been keeping tabs on him since she'd come, and none too discreetly either. He wished that he could just put a bullet through her head and be done with it.  
  
He stopped and turned, putting on his best act of glaring, and Bethany would have been sure that she saw his eyes narrow behind his dark glasses if she had not seen the gaping holes the day before. He had tugged her into an alley before she knew what was happening and had a threatening gloved hand pressed against her mouth. "Keep quiet until I say otherwise." He felt her nod against his hand. "Now, you're going to tell me exactly who you called last night, how much they know about me, and where they are."  
  
She tugged away from him. "What makes you think –"  
  
"Did I say you could speak yet? No. I didn't. Now, you're going to tell me all this, and then you're going to call your nice little cartel buddy and tell them I've taken a turn for the worse. The drugs the doctor gave me have stopped working and I'll be down longer than you had expected. Got it? You can say yes now."  
  
"Screw you, Sheldon," she growled. "Why do you think that I'd betray you?"  
  
He slammed her against the building. "Now now, Bethy, I was playing nice until now. Say yes and we'll continue playing nice, savvy?"  
  
Bethany felt hot tears sting her face. "Yeah, I savvy," she growled. "Now let go of me, Sheldon, and I'll tell you exactly what you want to know."  
  
----------------  
  
The phone rang loudly in the half dozing mariachi's ear. El stirred and picked it up slowly.  
  
"El?"  
  
"Sands? Where are you?"  
  
"It's set. I need you to come down town and meet me at the church. Time to kick cartel ass."  
  
El blinked, letting the American's words sink in. "I'll be there soon."  
  
--------------------  
  
The phone clicked shut and he smiled. "My name is Sheldon Jeffery Sands. I throw shapes, I set them up, I watch them fall. I'm living la vida loca."  
-----------------------  
  
A/N: It looks to me like the chapters are getting shorter.... I'm sorry. I'm getting writers' block on it ::sigh::  
  
Raphe1: I don't want to say I never add female characters in as love interests, but I try to keep it rare. With Sands, its usually not a love interest, but a bed interest. Hehe... snarky... I love that word....  
  
Empath89: I know, he's just so lovable... I mean, El is the angstiest character in the movie until Sands gets his eyes ripped out in a rather brutal fashion (not that you can get your eyes ripped out in an Unbrutal fashion....) Anyway, they're both lovely characters. I love Sands! ::huggles sands::  
  
ES Young: Sorry, probably not going to happen. Hate to disappoint, but I don't want to add someone in for Sands. I thought about it, really I did, but she came out this way, and therefore will not be getting together with our lovely Sheldon. Too bad... Poor Sands.... He'll just have to settle for one of his raging fangirls....  
  
Sly-chan: I don't think Sands trusts much of ANYONE, 'specially after the whole cartel incident....  
  
VanillaFluffy: I think Sands just learned from the Ajedrez event. I mean, c'mon, when your lover turns you over to your enemies and laughs as the slice and dice you, that's going to ruin a relationship and possibly any others that might have come along... Sands is just being his normal tacky self. I kinda like Bryan... He's too soft for his position though. ::huggles Bryan:: and he has my last name too :) 


	11. ch11a

**Chapter Eleven: Part A**

A/N: Sorry it's been a while... I'm moving slow on this one... The PotC fic's flowing better :(

Sands heard the mariachi's footsteps echo in the empty church. "Took you long enough," he said as he took a long drag of his cigarette.

"This is a holy place."

"Yeah, I know. What? You want me to put it out?" Sands smirked as he stood from the pew. "Come here."

El didn't like the look on the gunman's face. Something was seriously off about all of this. He saw the man before him smirk and pull a gun.

"Not for you," Sands said simply and the shot rang through the almost empty church, completely missing El. "For him."

El turned to see the fallen cartel. He'd been followed. Was he slipping? The man was clutching his leg in pain as he looked up. "Don't hurt me," he pleaded in rapid Spanish. "I was just following orders. I was just..."

"Doesn't matter what you were doing," Sands stated as he shoved a new clip into his gun. "What matters now, is how much you'll tell me."

"I don't know anything. I just follow orders."

Sands smiled a cold and chilling smile. "That's not what MY intelligence tells me." Sands knelt down next to the man, still surprising El how accurate he was in every movement even though he could not see. He grabbed the man's shirt, tugging him forward. "Listen, buddy, my patience is running thin and I want the cartel dead. Now, you can go down with them or you can leave here with only a bullet through your leg, comprende?"

"Sì."

"Now, where are they hiding?"

----------------------

El stood watching this interaction between them and stared. The cartel's thug told Sands everything he wanted to know. He must have heard of the blind gunfighter. Sands nodded as the rambling ended and the man looked up at him pleadingly. He couldn't see it as he leveled the gun and pulled the trigger. "He was a good little rat," Sands said quietly.

"You're ready for this to be over."

"Don't assume to know what I'm thinking," the American shot back sharply.

"But you can't deny it."

"I want them dead."

"Then kill them."

"I will, thanks." Sands turned and then paused, hearing the echoes of high heals on the church floor. "Bethany."

"Very good, Sheldon. Not alone, though. I told you everything I knew, but you didn't stay to see if I'd tell the cartel what you wanted. Just because everyone here fears you enough to do your bidding even after you leave doesn't mean I am. You've screwed me over for the last time, Sheldon."

Sands heard the sound of footsteps following her. What, had she brought the whole damn cartel with her? "What is this? A fricken' army?"

"Close. Do you know who I am, señor?"

"Probably the new leader of the cartel," Sands grumbled.

"The man that was killed because of your men was my cousin, señor."

"Lovely. Barillo, I suppose? Well, you'll be happy to know that you'll be following your dear cousin."

"I think not," the man said with a cold smile. "Señor Russell? Won't you come here?"

Bryan stepped forward. "Listen, Sands, I'm really sorry about this, old friend. We've been asked to take out this 'blind gunfighter' as well. I'm sorry, Sheldon, I never thought..."

"It'll be your end, Bryan."

"No, yours," El said from behind has he grabbed Sands' arms and wrenched them behind him.

The American froze. Betrayal. Again. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Why...

_You didn't even see this coming, did you?_

Shut up. I didn't see it coming because I have no eyes. I CAN'T see it coming.

_Didn't even see this coming..._

The gunshot echoed through the empty church.

--------------------------

A/N: Short one, sorry. I'm planning to wrap it up next chapter, I hope. I just liked my cliffhanger :) Just remember, things are not always as they seem.....

LaVieSansAmour: Hah! Yes, he said savvy. I'm going to start putting that into my daily vocab. Savvy... Such a nice word. I nearly died laughing when he said it in the movie. I had to back it up just to double check. Glad your cruise went well! Too bad about dear ol' Jack though. Hmm... So pretty... Anyway, just thought I'd let ya know I've got a new PotC fic I'm working on! Just thought I'd let ya know...

Empath89: Ah, everyone wants to kill Beth. Poor Bryan'll be in the same boat now too... Aww...

ES Young: Well, her family weren't the nicest of people... But oh well, the point was that she'd sell anyone out if she really wanted to. Sands isn't a big fan of his old man in this story, but he wouldn't sell him out. (I'll get around to that in an other story if I ever write it...) Glad you're not crushed by it :)

Sly-chan: Glad you think that way, b/c this chappy was very short. That's why it's part one of two chappies. I just wanted to get one out b/c I felt bad about not doing so. :) Here's what Beth's cooked up for Sands and very directly El as well.

Vanillafluffy: He's back in the game! Yay Sands! Hehe...


	12. ch11b

**Chapter Eleven part B**

**Checkmate.**

**A/N: I wrote this yesterday and was actually trying to upload it the whole day, but has been having trouble. Yay that it's up today!**

****

Every muscle in his body tensed, ready for the bullet to hit the pain to follow. Sands relaxed only slightly when he did not feel this.

Bryan Russell lowered his gun and watched as the new leader of the cartel dropped. Bethany looked at him in shock. "Just because my former partner was corrupted CIA doesn't mean I am," he said bluntly. "You don't get out of here I'll kill you. You go back to your cartel and I'll let Sands kill you. Got it?"

Guns dropped around the church and the men started out. Bethany was still standing in shock. "No... You just ruined EVERYTHING, Bryan. Do you KNOW how long it took to do that? We could have had it all."

"Could have, should have, didn't," Sands said as he pulled away from El who stepped back out of the livid CIA agent's way. "What the hell WAS that, Bryan?"

"That was a rouse that El and I thought up."

"You're an asshole. You're both assholes."

"Then we fit right in with you," Bryan answered him with a grin, even though he knew the other couldn't see it. He put a hand on Sands' shoulder. "Come on. Bethy, you've got a right to fair trial, of course, but it's not promising."

"No... I won't go back," she whispered. She turned to run and Sands had his hand on Bryan's gun before anyone knew what was happen and the shot echoed.

"No one screws me over, Beth. So sorry. Well, maybe not."

Bryan sighed. "I'm really sorry about all this, Sheldon. We should have let you in on it but it was all rather last minute."

Sands nodded. "Yeah, I know how you work. You, El, I'm still pissed off at."

El shrugged. "What was it you said before? I have nothing to live for."

"And is that still right?" the dark haired American asked, turning his head to El with such accuracy that the mariachi was almost certain that he was looking at him. "No, didn't think so. So was the whole 'taking out the blind gunfighter' thing just a load of shit?"

"No. I've been asked to do it, but I won't. You'll be taken back to America and we'll do what we can for you, Sands. I've seen you in action and you're perfectly capable to go back into your old job as a field agent. We'll have to send a partner along with you, but you'll still be where you always liked it."

"What? I owe you now?"

"No. Just get your lazy ass moving."

"Sure thing," Sands answered as he felt his knees betray him and he crashed down to the floor.

El chuckled, receiving a strange look from the only American left standing. "Don't worry about him. He'll be all right. I told you what all's happen to him."

"True." Bryan smiled a bit as he leaned down to pull Sands' arm over one shoulder, the mariachi doing the same on the other side. "At least I know he trusts us both."

"Why's that?"

"Sheldon Sands is never vulnerable in front of people he doesn't trust. If he'd had even the slightest bit of question still left, he'd have shot us both and then collapsed."

"Very comforting."

---------------------

"If either of you would rather change your minds, feel free."

"Bryan. Lave them alone. You've asked that five times since we've walked to the gates," Sands growled in an agitated tone. They had been waiting at the airport for two hours and he was ready to get back to the States. He'd come, he'd killed, time to go home and see what the people back "home" could be used for. He suppressed a groan. Time to face his father, but that would come much later... Hopefully.

"Just offering."

"Thank you," Ramirez responded. "I'm perfectly happy here. I may head up to see some old friends though in a couple months, and if so I'll call."

"And you, El Mariachi?" Bryan asked with a grin.

El smiled a bit. "My wife and daughter's graves are here in Mexico. I will not leave that."

"You may someday," Sands piped in. "Come on, Russell. We don't have all day."

Bryan smiled and muttered an apology as he followed his impatient friend to the gate to board. He had a silent fear that this was only the beginning, but that was to be seen.

-----------------------

A/N: I may make a sequel, but there are only very very vague ideas in my head for that. They're not clearcut yet. All I know is that Sands' father will be in it. If anyone's read my PotC stories, you know how I am with working on family relationships within the story lines. Hehe... It's one of the most important things in life, so it disserves to be touched on. Anyway, see you next time if I end up writing it! Ta

Raphe1: I'm sorry, I'd write more but I really stretched for the end, and when I don't feel it flowing it ends up sucking, and I don't want that. "Just bad writing," as Mort Rainey said. Lol. Anyway, glad you enjoyed it. I'll still be writing on other fandoms if you'd like to read them! :) Sooner or later I'll probably write that sequel.

Empath89: It was all a trick to get Bethany and the cartel! Yay! Haha! I wouldn't make El betray Sands. I just don't think he really would, not like that at least. He'd never help the cartel. Glad you liked it :)

Who?: One hint about my stories: cliffhangers are around every bend. Hehe... I love 'em!

Sly-chan: I've been called evil a bit lately...hmm... Hehe. You hear and obey, eh? Write my English paper for me! J/k... Can you believe that? She gave us an assignment before school even started... ::sob::

LaVieSansAmour: Grumpy, jerky, a complete a-hole on a good day... lol. That's our Agent Sands! Hope this came through fast enough :)


End file.
